


After Kirkwall

by everidite



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Varric is a bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 05:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14928230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everidite/pseuds/everidite
Summary: Varric sent a copy of Tale of the Champion to Hawke and Fenris and they find themselves reminiscing about the past. Fenris gets embarrassed. Hawke finds it adorable. Fluff ensues. Set post DA2.





	After Kirkwall

Her laughter reached his ears right away.

Faint, but enough to caught his attention as he stepped from the sunny outdoors and into the foyer. Yet, as far as he could see, Hawke was nowhere in sight.

He was sure it was her voice though, and if there was any doubt they faded away when he heard it again, likely from the direction of the bedroom. It was followed almost immediately with a high-pitched squeal.

_What in the Void is she doing?_

One eyebrow slightly raised, Fenris scanned the house for any signs of a guest coming over, but found nothing. And indeed, he had not heard any other voice other than Hawke’s, for whatever reason she had for laughing and squealing to herself.

Following the direction of her voice, he arrived at the bedroom, and as expected he found Hawke alone. She was sprawled across the tall wing chair by the window, still wearing the same loose linen tunic she wore to bed, her legs lazily dangling from the padded armrest. An opened book was resting on her lap.

 _Oh_.

Watching her, he couldn’t help the smile that was tugging on the corner of his lips. Short wisps of her raven hair stuck out to every direction; clearly she had just gotten out of bed not long ago. Her long bangs fell unceremoniously on her forehead and she nonchalantly brushed them away when they were getting over her eyes.

Hawke turned away from her book and met his gaze as he was approaching. “Fenris.” She beamed, smiling widely. “Good morning!”

“It’s half an hour nearing lunch, Hawke.” He stopped just before her. “I would hardly call it morning.”

“Any hour before lunch _still_ counts as morning.”

“Perhaps. For a sleepyhead.” He brought his hand to ruffle her hair, making it even more tousled, a half smile gracing his face at Hawke’s lazy attempt to push his hand away.

“It’s true, you know,” she drawled out. “You can’t blame me, I woke up to the lack of morning cuddles with a certain _someone_.”

He let out a chuckle. “I thought I’ve told you I had business to do early in the morning.”

“I know, I know… how’s it going by the way, any progress on that tip you received?”

“Yes.” He strode over to lean casually against the wing chair. “I found a lead that marks the location where the rest of the slavers are. Possibly where they are hiding the missing refugees as well.”

“Hmm,” Hawke hummed, “imagine what the rescuing operation would be; you, flanking from the shadows, lashing out and kicking their asses like a tornado. Perhaps even leaving some kind of macabre art form on the ground by the time you’re done.”

“Your taste in arts sometimes worries me, Hawke.”

“ _Says_ the one who used to decor his foyer with dead bodies and never bothered to clean them up in 6 years.” She rolled her eyes. “By the way, check this out!”

With that she took the book on her lap and stretched her arm to Fenris, who was now eyeing the front cover with intrigue.

Hawke had been kind enough to teach him how to read those years ago, and with so many time had passed by he had definitely improved significantly, even at some evening drowning himself in piles of books he had found in the library at Danarius’ old mansion. Yet, if the letters were printed in an intricate style of lettering, sometimes he would still need to take his time.

This particular book cover, for example. At the top side there was an embossed Kirkwall heraldry, and scribbled below in large size were letters shaped in bold, geometric lines without any curves. Furrowing his brows, Fenris focused on each word. T... ale… of… the… cha..m..pion…?

He looked back at Hawke, eyes widened. “ _Tale of the Champion_?”

She nodded excitedly. “I know, right? It’s about me!”

“But who would wrote— _oh_.”

He dropped his question as soon as he noticed the back cover. There, big enough to almost covering the whole page, was a portrait of certain beardless dwarf with a wide, smug all-knowing smile of which Fenris was so familiarly acquainted.

“Varric’s latest book, apparently,” she chimed in as she brought the book back to her lap and opened the page back to where she had been reading before. “He did say that he’d make sure to publish the events in Kirkwall and we’d discussed a few details. I joked that he might as well put me in the center… you know, with my good looks and good hair.” She made an exaggerated gesture mimicking a vain Orlesian noble yet with a notable lack of elegance.

He arched an amused eyebrow at her. “Looking like you’ve been in a wrestling contest against a darkspawn, you’re not convincing anyone.”

“Shush, you.” Hawke lightly smacked his arm. “Anyway, he only laughed and said he’d do something about that.”

“Well, he certainly kept his promise,” he commented, his mind took him back at those times when the dwarf kept bombarding him with questions about his relationship with Hawke. He merely threw him off that time. _But if he DARES putting those details into the book…_

Oh, he wouldn’t admit it out loud but he would be _terribly_ embarrassed if that was the case.

Fenris wanted to groan.

“I’m glad he sent us a copy,” Hawke continued cheerily, seemingly not aware of her lover’s silent frustration. “Oh, also there’s a letter with it, it’s on the table.”

She gestured at the table just beside the wing chair. Taking a deep breath to regain his composure, Fenris reached for the parchment and began to read:

> _Dear Hawke and Elf,_
> 
> _How have you guys been? I hope this mail arrives safely (would hate for this to fall into that scary Seeker’s hand and having my ass hurled up into another blasted interrogation)._
> 
> _I’m doing fine here in Kirkwall. Yep, I’m back at the city. Crazy right? Business is all good, ignoring the Merchant Guild and keeping the Carta off my back truly becoming quite the routine here, but hey, I’ll take anything other than squabbling rogue templars or rebel mages fire-bombing the city._
> 
> _Kirkwall’s recovering. Slowly, but we actually made real progress. I’ve got to hand it to Aveline though, both you and I know not to mess with our dear Guard-Captain. She really rallied the rest of the guards to help clean the mess and actually get the job done (she said hi, by the way, and will write to you soon). And do you remember that senechal with surly face, Bran? He’s the viscount now! Well, provisional viscount to be exact, but still, I’m impressed that he actually managed to get the worst job in the city. Still surly._
> 
> _So I guess I’ll left you a little gift, your very own autobiography! Yeah, those many questions I keep asking you back then with the old gang? They were not small talks, I was actually compiling materials for this one. Well, may have sprinkled little bits of salt and sugar here and there, but don’t worry, nothing grand, just to amplify the epicness for the readers. And you should know that it actually sells well. I guess people all over Thedas really want to know about the Champion considering recent events. And before you ask, yes, royalties in order, I assure you. What, you’re the central hero after all!_
> 
> _Anyways, I hope you guys stay safe. And Elf, take care of Hawke, will you? Less brooding, more sweeping her off her feet (or the other side around, you pick)._
> 
> _Your friend,  
>  _ _Varric_

Fenris put the letter back at the table. Well, hearing from Varric again actually made him glad. He glanced over at Hawke. “It would seem like he’s doing alright in Kirkwall.”

“Yeah. Good thing that the Seeker—what was her name… Cassandra?—doesn’t give him any more trouble this time.”

“If anything, I must admit his loyalty to you is admirable,” Fenris remarked, walking towards the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “Who knows what kind of business those people have got on you and the Hero of Ferelden.”

“Aww, Fenris,” Hawke cooed exaggeratedly, flashing him a coy smile. “Are you worried about me? That’s so sweet.”

“Are you really that adamant for me to spill out my mind?”

“If there are good things about me? Yes, please.”

He laughed at that. “I don’t need to say the obvious, I’m certain. Speaking of which,” he nodded at Varric’s book, “is that the reason you kept laughing a moment ago?”

Hawke stared at him for a few seconds. “You… heard that? From the front door?”

“Evidently.”

She gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of her neck. For some reason she was blushing, which Fenris suspected had nothing to do of him mentioning about her loud laughter. “Oh. Well. I uh… just came to one of the most interesting part of the book,” she muttered, rather bashfully.

He narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to continue. She quite curiously started to have immense interest with the edges of the papers.

“Oh?”

“It’s—well, there’s you in it actually.”

Fenris stilled. _That dwarf…._

“Nothing awful or overly fictionalized or anything like it, don’t worry,” Hawke hurriedly said, though failing to hide her growing smile. She passed the book over to him. “Here, read it yourself. It… brings back memories, that’s all.”

Taking the book from her outstretched arm, Fenris looked down and began to read the long paragraph beginning at the center of the left page:

> _He cast a glance at her. The dread for whatever coming for them next... the engulfing warmth only found in someone who had so willingly given her entire self to him and him only... the long years of paving their own ways to finally join in the same path_ — _every single emotion colliding together in this moment of truth._
> 
> _Fenris took a step forward, his hand reaching to Hawke and caressed her cheek with a gentle affection I had never thought could exist within him before._
> 
> _“Promise me you won’t die,” he whispered, his voice almost pleading, “I can’t bear the thought of living without you.”_
> 
> _Hawke stared back at him, putting on a brave face, though one could easily see in her eyes that she felt the same about the elven warrior; the fear, the longing… everything. The Champion herself, usually so charming with her wit, could not come right away with clever words after hearing this sincere proclamation._
> 
> _Instead she took a deep breath and lifted her chin. In a small voice yet firm, perhaps as a way for reassuring him and herself, she said, “I don’t plan on dying.”_
> 
> _His lingering gaze was intense. “You’d better not," Fenris growled, and pulled Hawke into a hard, passionate kiss. His hand found its way into the back of her head, deepening the kiss in such urgency; while her arms sliding up and wrapped around his body, pulling both of them against each other in a desperate, longing embrace._
> 
> _There were no time for other words; I witnessed how their emotions and feelings were pouring down into each other’s arms in such intensity, with little care to other matters like there were no one else at the Gallows_ —

Fenris slammed the book shut.

A deep shade of red now coloring his cheeks, extending all the way to his ears.

Watching her lover’s reaction, Hawke laughed heartily, eventually easing out of her own embarrassment. She took the book back when Fenris had not made any gesture and simply glared at the innocent thing. “It’s a bit over the top, I agree,” she lightly quipped in.

“ _A bit?_ ” Fenris snarled, finally recovering from his trance, looking at Hawke as if she had mentioned that Tevinter magisters were as harmless as cute little nugs.

“Okay, a lot.” Hawke laughed again, setting the book aside, swinging her legs off the armrest and shifted so that she sat facing him. “Though if my memory serves, you _did_ kiss me in front on _everybody_ that time. And a rather heated one, it was.” She smirked at his glowering expression. “Not that I was complaining.”

Fenris grunted and ran his hands through his hair. He blew an sharp sigh. “I’m going to kill Varric.”

“Oh, he’d take it as a compliment.”

“And people all over Thedas read _this_?”

“Apparently so.”

“ _Fasta vass!_ ”

He proceeded to rant a string of Tevene curses, ignoring Hawke who continued to snicker over his annoyance.

And then he fell silent. “Hawke,” finally he called her after a while.

“Yes?”

Fenris paused, his eyes finding her blue ones, observing how they were gleaming under the ray of sunlight that entered the room through the windows. She was staring at him expectantly, almost in a childlike curiosity.

He bet not many people ever thought that the famous Champion of Kirkwall could ever look so innocent. Most people saw her as Hawke, the Champion who was admittedly, as Varric had once put it, ‘larger than life’. Most people only knew her as this enigmatic figure who had risen to power from nothing, had defeated the Arishok in single combat, and to top it all had sparked the events that ultimately led to mage rebellions all across Thedas.

Only _he_ had the privilege to see and experience her true self right before his eyes.

Her charming wit and share of flirtatious words at the first stages of their relationship. Her stubborn resolute on her views about mages, which had so often clashed with his and had caused so much bickering between the two of them in the older days.

Her vulnerable side as she had ultimately broken down in tears in the aftermath of her mother’s death, failed in her attempt to keep on the resilient charade, sobbing hard and clutching onto his chest when he had come to check on her; one tiny detail that never even made it into Varric’s stories.

Her soft gasps and the lovely sounds she could make against his mouth and under his touch. The attentive, gentle carresses of her fingers across his skin every now and then. The way she called out to his name in breathless whispers every time he brought her over the edge.

Everything about her was endearing.

“Come here.”

Hawke quirked an eyebrow, but did not say anything until she walked over and stopped by the bed. “What is it?”

A small gasp escaped her when Fenris gave her hand a soft tug so that she tumbled over, and her eyes slowly slipped closed when he captured her lips in a gentle kiss, one hand sliding up to bury his fingers into her hair. The gesture made Hawke move closer, in time starting to climb the bed on her own accord and sat on Fenris’ lap, straddling him, circling her arms around his neck. Her bare legs brushed against his clothed thighs, making both of them shuddered at the new contact.

“Well, I don’t know what came over you, but I can’t say that I don’t enjoy it,” she mumbled against his mouth, grinning widely, ultimately enjoying this surprise display of affection.

Fenris chuckled softly. “Neither can I,” he murmured, before pulling away to look at her. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

He watched gleefully as soft shades of pink began to spread over her face, her eyes all dreamy and half lidded. She brought a hand up to cup his cheek. “Me too,” Hawke whispered, leaning to plant a tender kiss on his lips. “And Fenris?”

“Hmm.”

“About that time at the Gallows…” She paused only for a moment. “You need not be ashamed, you know. I may have never mentioned this before, but…”

She ran her palm gently across his cheek, his jaw, before resting at his chin, fingers tentatively caressing his lower lip. “When you kissed me that time… it gave me this enormous amount of boost. You know, like I just chugged down 50 mana potions at the same time. I’m not even exaggerating,” she said, her voice soft in a sense of nostalgia. “I felt like _I could do anything_. And knowing you were there beside me, fighting at my side, knowing that you’d be waiting for me when it’s all over... it was enough reason to survive.”

Fenris’ eyes found hers and his heart fluttered at the genuine sincerity, completely unmasked and bare for him to see, further showering himself with overwhelming gratitude that from all people, this woman chose _him_ , chose to fight alongside _him_ , to continue her life beside _him._

He captured her fingers with his hand and kissed them one by one. “I feel honored,” he hummed against her fingers between kisses, marveling at the sounds of her contented sighs.

“The honor is mine.” Hawke smiled as one hand playing with his hair. “You know, this is unusual, right now.”

“How so?”

”You and me, reminiscing the crazy old days, making kissy faces at the end.” She chuckled. “If this is Varric’s true intent of giving the book, I’d say it’s pretty damn effective.”

Fenris snorted a laugh. “Command me to stop, and I shall.”

“And miss out this rare occassion when you get all softy? Perish the thought.”

“Call me softy again and I _shall_ stop.”

“Oooh. Scary, _softy_ Fenris.”

“Hawke.”

“I can’t wait to tell Varric of how _adorable_ you are when you— _whoa!_ ”

She yelped and bursted into breathless laughter when Fenris suddenly flipped her into her back against the mattress, his elbows pressed on each space beside her head. He moved to hover over her. “You will say _nothing_ to him.”

Hawke grinned. “Alright, alright… At least let me tell him you _do_ fulfil his wishes to sweep me off my feet.”

“ _Hawke._ ”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t give him any details. Best keep the best bits to ourselves.”

Fenris gave her a satisfied half-smile. “You’d better not,” he growled, and bent down to kiss her again.


End file.
